He lifted her hands to his lips. Kissing the rough hewn knuckles one at a time, punctuating his words. “Because, I never want you to be cold.”
It was strange and frivolous and entirely beyond understanding. But it was the most beautiful thing anyone had ever said to her. And they were beautiful gloves.
She lifted a pair of short gloves in silver satin and moved to put them on.
He stayed her with a touch. “No.”
She smiled up at him. “No?”
He shook his head. “When we’re alone, I like you without them.”
Her brow furrowed. “Temple, you’re not making sense.”
He smiled and pressed a kiss to her neck before lifting his head and whispering, hot and wonderful at her ear, “When we’re alone, I shall keep you warm in other ways.”
And then he set about doing just that.
Which suited her quite well, indeed.
N early one week later, following tradition held sacrosanct by gentlemen across Britain, the founder of the Fallen Angel sat down to breakfast, and read the morning paper.
On this particular day, however, Chase broke with tradition, and began with the Society pages:
The Duke of Lamont and Miss Mara Lowe were married at Christmas in the chapel at Whitefawn Abbey, the place where they met for the first time, on a fated night, twelve years ago.
The nuptials reportedly attracted a wide array of guests including several of London’s most notorious scoundrels and their wives, two dozen boys aged three to eleven, a French chef, a governess, and a pig. No doubt when this caravan of oddities trundled up the long drive of Whitefawn Abbey, the servants in residence worried for their security. And their sanity.
It should be mentioned, however, that the group, while lewd at times and raucous more often than not, is reported to have been tremendously well behaved for the ceremony itself, witnessing the rite with the happy solemnity that should be afforded such an occasion.
All but the pig, we are told. Apparently, she slept through the whole thing.
The News of Britain
December 30, 1831
With a satisfied smile, Chase closed the paper and finished breakfast before standing, smoothing her skirts, and leaving the house.
After all, she had a gaming hell to run.